y," the girl cried, pressing a
parting kiss on my lips.

"'"Annunziata!" the voice called again, and the girl disappeared among
the trees. Margareta! that was the moment when that mighty love flame
passed into my soul, which will for ever burn on there, always kindling
fresh flame. A few days after this I was driven away from that house.
Father Bluenose said (when I could never cease talking of the angel
that had appeared to me, whose sweet voice I heard in the rustling of
the trees, in the purling of the streams, in the mystic sighs of the
sea) that the girl could have been none other than Nenolo's daughter
Annunziata, who had come with her mother the day before, and had gone
away on the day following. "Oh, mother Margareta! this Annunziata is
the Dogaressa!"

"'Antonio hid his face in his pillow, and sobbed and wept in
inexpressible pain.

"'"Dear Tonino," the old woman answered, "be a man, and resist this
foolish pain bravely. No one should despair in love troubles. To whom
do Hope's golden blossoms bloom but to those who love? At evening one
docs not know what the morning will bring. What we see in dreams comes
to pass in our lives. The castle which floated in the clouds stands,
all in a moment, on the earth, bright and glorious. You do not believe
in my sayings; but my little finger tells me (and somebody else, I dare
say, into the bargain) that the bright banner of Love is coming
fluttering towards you, with gladsome wavings, over the sea. Have
patience, my son Tonino, have patience."

"'In such sort did the old woman try to comfort poor Antonio, to whom
her words sounded like beautiful music. He did not allow her to quit
him any more. The beggar of the Franciscan porch disappeared, and in
her stead people saw Antonio's housekeeper, in good clothes, limping
about San Marco, and buying the household necessaries.

"'Giovedi Grasso came; the fetes in celebration of it were to be more
brilliant than usual. In the middle of the lesser Piazza di San Marco a
lofty scaffold was erected for a special display of fireworks, of a
sort unseen hitherto, which a Greek, versed in the mysteries of such
matters, was going to exhibit. When the evening came, old Falieri
mounted to the gallery with his beautiful wife, mirroring himself in
the splendour of her loveliness, and of his own happiness, with radiant
glances, challenging all beholders to amazed admiration. Just as he was
about to seat himself on his throne, however, he